


Bad Blood Rituals

by CrashOuch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Blood Magic, F/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Rituals, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 23:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashOuch/pseuds/CrashOuch
Summary: Jesper's just trying to live the high life but, somehow, Rowan always manages to drag him back down.





	Bad Blood Rituals

Jesper Tait’s date would be arriving soon. He checked himself one last time in the mirror. He was looking good. His shoes were brown leather and designer, his chinos had cost more than the worker who’d sold them to him made in a year, and his shirt was well-fitted – as a bespoke piece all the way from Italy should be.

The car that picked them up was sleek and black and the capped driver held the door open as Jesper slid inside and pressed a kiss to his date’s high cheekbone.

As soon as they arrived at the red carpet, cameras started flashing. Most of them were pointed at her, but that was okay. He still looked good. And he had another red-carpet event booked with another date next weekend.

They posed and smiled, showing off thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of dental work, and then she squeezed his hand, curving her long, gorgeous neck to pout towards a flash as she whispered to him that she was done and they could go inside to watch the film, or listen to the spiel, or donate a huge amount of money to some vaguely unscrupulous charity, or whatever this particular event was in aid of.

They made their way towards the end of the carpet and for the briefest split of a moment, Jesper was sure he could hear music playing, an old song he’d belted out while he drove too fast along the coastline with the top down.

And then the pain started.

It felt like a gunshot wound. In fact, Jesper was sure that he could feel the hot metal shrapnel tearing through his flesh and puncturing things even money couldn’t replace.

He didn’t want to, but before he could stop himself he’d sunk to his knees with a gasp, his hand clutched over his chest.

His date whirled on him, eyes wide and roving over him. ‘Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?’

‘ _Rowan_ ,’ he managed to groan.

Her brow furrowed further as she tucked some platinum blonde, designer-dyed hair behind her ear. He was sure he could make out glossy makeup on the shell of her ear. ‘Rowan?’ she asked him. ‘Like mountain ash? Is there some sort of poison made out of rowan trees?’ Apparently, she wasn’t as stupid as she looked.

Jesper groaned again and crumpled forwards, vaguely aware of the on-call EMTs hauling him up and onto a stretcher, asking him inane questions all the while.

There was no blood on him, not a single mark; how could he explain that?

‘What … hospital …?’

They rattled off some answer about the nearest hospitals and Jesper struggled to focus his mind enough to figure out if that would work. The wound felt bad; they couldn’t have that much time.

One of the EMTs took his date by the hand to help her up into the back of the ambulance. It wouldn’t do much good for anyone to get a shot of her on the red carpet after he’d been stretchered off it. She could always get a cab from the hospital – there were always discreet back doors and hidden entrances into these events, anyway.

The journey went by fast for the wrong reasons; they got held up in city-centre traffic over and over, but Jesper’s mind was racing. How much blood was in a human body? How much did you need to survive? How quickly did the heart pump it out of a punctured artery?

They wheeled him out into the emergency room and he sat up on the stretcher, swatting them away and tumbling over the edge, unsteady on his feet but desperate to follow them wherever they were leading him. EMTs and doctors and nurses and porters and whoever else worked in hospitals swarmed him, grabbing at him and trying to pull him back towards the stretcher but he pushed them off and surged forwards.

The doors to the resuscitation room swung wildly when he barrelled into them but the mass of people surrounding the only occupied bed didn’t notice his presence.

She had to make this difficult, didn’t she?

He staggered forwards, his ears ringing so loud he almost couldn’t make out the yelling and commotion over the top of them, and shoved his way into the pack of frantic medical staff who were looming over the bloodied body.

Catching hold of one of her arms, the one that had a canula taped to it, he slid his fingers between hers, even though the plastic clip on one of them got in the way, dipped a finger into the mess that was what remained of her chest, and used it to scrawl some symbols up the inside of her arm.

She gasped loudly and sat up, her eyes blown wide.

Almost immediately, he felt the pressure that had grown behind his eyes, like the feeling you get when you hold your breath for too long, dissipate, and with it the pain in his chest.

Hers was whole again.

‘ _Rowan_ ,’ he growled.

She wrenched her hand out of his grip.

Medical staff were shouting things, orders and questions and wails of pure disbelief, and now there was nothing to stop him from hearing them; his ears were normal again, his mind quiet.

But he was angry.

On the bed, she was disassembling all the apparatus that had been keeping her pinned to it, wires and tubes flung down without care before she vaulted onto the ground.

She was still wobbly on her feet and Jesper had to fight the purely instinctual urge to catch her and steady her. Before anyone could think to do anything about it, she was sailing through the still-swinging doors, pulling a piece of tape off her hand, leaving the commotion she’d created behind her.

On the other side of the doors, the commotion Jesper had left behind him was still waiting.

His date shot forwards, grabbing at him, and he sidestepped her easily, totally focused on Rowan’s back as he stalked after her.

She wove her way through the waiting rooms and mazes of white washed corridors with ease and finally shoved her way out through a service entrance.

They hadn’t got as far as cutting her leather jacket off her and she shrugged it off and handed it to him to hold while she inspected the damage that had been done to her t-shirt.

It had been torn completely in half and she looked almost close to tears as she pulled it off, tied a knot in it, and put it back on the wrong way around, snatching her jacket back off him.

‘ _Rowan!_ ’

At long last, after her whirl of activity, she was sinking back against the hospital wall, one hand pressed to her chest, which, though still covered with blood, was smooth and whole once again. ‘I am really so terribly sorry if my getting shot _inconvenienced_ you, Jes,’ she muttered sourly, without looking at him, her voice just a touch too breathy.

‘Well it did! How many times have I told you? And what are you _doing_ getting shot in the chest?’

Rather than reply with a biting _getting shot in the chest, what’s it look like?_ like he realised he was expecting her to, she merely shot a scowl at him as she pushed off the wall and moved over to a nearby parked car.

She still looked a bit wobbly.

‘I feel like I’ve made myself plenty clear,’ he continued, more for feeling like someone should be angrily saying something than anything else.

Ignoring him, Rowan slid a metal file from the bottom of her jacket and a couple of lock picks from her hair and started to work on the car. It didn’t take much effort on her part to get the door unlocked, which was just as well because he could see that her bloodied hands were still shaking. She left the door open as she slumped into the driver’s seat and started making a mess of the wires in the ignition.

‘You can’t keep doing this,’ Jesper said, although he was feeling suddenly exhausted and couldn’t muster the energy to put any heat behind it.

Rowan shook her head slowly and started the car. She paused with her hand on the door and winced as she said, ‘Thank you.’

As he watched her slam the door and hare out of the carpark, he realised he hadn’t lost all that much time, really. It wasn’t too late to head back to the event. He could spend the rest of the day a world away from here, swallowing shot after shot of vodka that cost more than the car Rowan had stolen, if he wanted. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, now, to put on that face and laugh off the scene he’d caused and make nice with people who had nothing better to do than burn money and talk about each other.

He walked around to the front of the hospital and hailed a cab to take him home.

There was blood on his Italian shirt.

His penthouse apartment was nice and his whisky was nice and the city was nice and quiet from so high up and so far behind triple glazed glass, but Jesper couldn’t sleep. He was far too busy fuming. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her. It was driving him mad.

As dawn started to lighten the sky through his floor to ceiling windows, he gave up and tore downstairs. The doorman greeted him as calmly and politely as if it were the middle of the day and not four in the morning and stood out of the way as he stormed down into the underground garage. He took the Lamborghini – the roar of its engine matched his mood. It had been a pleasant, clear night and Jesper took great pleasure in spoiling it by punishing the car, screaming around corners and revving aggressively at stop lights – at least, the ones he actually bothered to stop at.

A nice, fast, angry drive might’ve been enough to calm him down but before too long he realised at some point he’d headed away from the open highways and towards downtown. When he sighted an ugly, brown estate parked up ahead, he swore.

He pulled over, parked, and got out, straightening his cuffs as he went, although he really hoped no one who recognised him enough to pap him was down here. He strode towards the car, bent over and rapped on the window. The face that had been squashed up against the other side of the glass shot upright, staring at him with surprise that quickly turned sour as she caught sight of who’d woken her.

Jesper glanced over each shoulder and then sighed and walked over to the passenger side, waiting expectantly for her to unlock the door.

Rowan grumbled to herself loudly as she reached over and flicked the lock, sinking back into her seat sullenly and without ever looking at him.

He took a deep breath and climbed inside the car. It smelt of old cigarettes and possibly a body.

‘Rowan—’ he started.

‘What do you want, Jes? We’re still in a fight, aren’t we?’ she interrupted.

‘Yes.’

‘Then what are you _doing_ here? We know how it goes by now, so why don’t you save us both some time and just go now, rather than shout at me when I’ve just woken up?’

‘Why are you sleeping in a car anyway? Where are you staying right now?’

She stretched her hands out and rested them on the steering wheel, even though he was sure she wasn’t going to drive off. He could see a pale band of skin on her ring finger and he wondered when she’d taken it off, just now before he got in the car or some point before whatever job had got her shot?

‘The lakeside loft,’ she said finally.

Jesper’s mood darkened even more. ‘ _What_? When I asked they said it had been sold.’

‘I paid them to say that.’

‘Rowan! You know I love that loft!’

She shrugged, sliding her hands up the wheel and then back down again. ‘It’s in my name.’

‘Which means _you_ should be paying for it, not lounging around inside while the bills come out of my account.’

‘I _do_ pay for it.’

‘How? With what money?’

‘I have a good job.’

‘You are a thief.’

‘A _professional_ thief.’

‘I can’t believe this. You’re _unbelievable_. I’m not fighting with you in this mangy old car; I don’t want to catch something. I’ll take you home.’

‘You don’t _have_ to fight with me at all. You could just go.’

‘You’re the one fighting right now, Rowan, let’s go.’

She rolled her eyes and then sat up straighter in her seat, straining her eyes to see in the rear-view mirror. ‘What did you bring?’

‘The Lambo.’

‘For fuck’s _sake_ , Jes, do you have any idea where we _are_?’

‘I wasn’t _planning_ on coming here when I took it.’

He saw the look that passed over her face at that; she felt like it was a victory.

He opened the door and got out of the car, heading back towards the Lamborghini; sitting in the hand-stitched leather seats while he waited for Rowan to make up her mind was a thousand times better than whatever rotten foam the estate’s seats had glued to them twenty years ago.

It didn’t take long for her to apparently come to the same conclusion.

 

The drive to the loft reminded him of how much he’d missed it. As the sun rose it was doing pretty things to the sparse gathering of clouds above his head and he absently wondered if Rowan still spent much time on the roof. Who was he kidding, she probably charged by the minute every time she stepped outside the rooftop bay doors – her own roof, someone else’s, he doubted her clients would notice it on their invoices.

He had to stop at the little security booth when the barrier wasn’t raised and he let his window down so Rowan could lean forward and wave at the person manning it.

‘Sorry, Clarke,’ she called, ‘it’s only me.’

‘Oh, hello, madam! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognise the car.’ He squeezed his short, tubby frame out from the booth and came around the front of the car so he could talk to Rowan through her own open window. ‘Ah! Mr Tait! I didn’t realise it was you. It’s very good to see you again, sir.’

‘Uh, yeah, and … and you,’ Jesper mumbled, not missing the mocking look Rowan slid his way.

‘Has anyone been by while I’ve been out?’ Rowan asked.

‘Someone left a package for you earlier,’ he said.

‘Yeah? Who?’

Clarke’s eyes darted quickly to Jesper. He shifted from one foot to the other as he bent to see them in the low car. ‘Ah …’

Rowan followed his gaze and waved a hand dismissively. ‘Don’t worry about him. Who was it?’

‘The gentleman with the black Maserati, madam.’

‘Oh!’ Rowan laughed. ‘ _Him_.’ She took the box from the security guard and carelessly tossed it at Jesper. ‘You can open it, if you want.’

Jesper eyed the package suspiciously. ‘What if it’s a bomb?’

‘Even better. Go right ahead.’

‘Oh, no, sir, no, no, it’s been through our scanners, you don’t need to worry about that—’ Clarke started, but Rowan’s chuckle cut him off.

‘Ignore him, Clarke.’

‘As you wish, madam. And are the two of you in for the, ah …’ He flicked his eyes up at the rapidly brightening sky. ‘For the night?’

‘Jesper’s just dropping me off,’ Rowan said. ‘He’ll be on his way out again in just a minute.’

Clarke nodded and smiled pleasantly at them both. ‘Very good. I shall see you again soon, then, sir.’

As soon as the security guard had squeezed himself back into the booth and lifted the barrier, Jesper shot through, remembering the curves and corners of the drive with ease. A wish for Rowan to be the one behind the steering wheel struck him unexpectedly, the memory of her sharp, gleeful grins as she braked just slightly too late for bends and let the tail spin out every time she accelerated hitting him hard with unwanted longing.

 

They trekked up the stairs to the loft in silence and he watched Rowan unlock the door with a set of keys he didn’t recognise and had definitely never used to get in before. Inside, she flounced off through the archway and into the bedroom, dropping her bloody t-shirt on the floor as she went. It took her only a minute or so to strip out of what she’d been wearing and change into pyjamas. When she reappeared, she rolled over the back of the sofa and flopped onto the seat below.

The loft was barely changed since the last time Jesper had seen it and he caught sight of a framed photo of the two of them on top of a side table. He felt the pang that shot through Rowan’s chest when she saw him looking at it, embarrassment or maybe shame and some plain old pain; this was what it meant for there to be no secrets between them, for every painful truth and shameful secret to be laid out before the other, raw and vulnerable as an open wound that was never allowed to heal.

He walked over to the sofa and as soon as he was in range, Rowan reared up and snatched the package out of his hands, tearing it open and taking the box inside out. The box was well made but nothing could keep Rowan out for long and she was shoving her hand into it and pulling it out again covered in glittering, shimmering crystals before he could blink.

She turned her hand over and over, head cocked to watch the way the necklace shone in the early morning light, and then she tossed the whole thing onto the coffee table. It slid across the polished surface and dropped off the other side, onto the floor.

‘Rowan!’ Jesper admonished.

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Oh shut up, it’s not real. He’s good though, huh?’

‘I don’t want to know, do I?’

Rowan huffed quietly and threw an arm across her eyes, sinking lower on the cushions. ‘Come on, then, let’s get it over with.’

‘Where was I?’ Jesper murmured absently.

‘Pretty sure you’d got to the part about yelling at me for wasting your time, or something,’ Rowan offered.

‘Ha, _ha_ ,’ Jesper replied. ‘I’m serious, Rowan, you can’t just keep _doing_ this. I have my own life, you know, I’m busy doing things that I can’t just be—’

‘What was it then? That you were _so_ busy doing?’ She’d pulled her arm off her face and was studying her nails, trying to look flippant, but he could see the angry set of her jaw.

Jesper straightened up. ‘I was on a date, actually.’

He expected her to get upset or be hurt, but he felt nothing as she raised an eyebrow dismissively. ‘A date, huh? And what was her name?’

His mouth opened and shut again.

‘Wow, well I am really so, _so_ sorry to pull you away from that great love story.’

There it was again, a tiny spark of victory. It was unacceptable.

‘Rowan! Come on, you’re being totally out of order! What if I’d been out of town, too far away to get back here in time? You could’ve _died_.’

Her eyes, still fixed on her nails, narrowed slightly at that.

He tried again, ‘What then, huh? What would I have told Mum? How am I supposed to explain you getting shot in the chest? That just doesn’t _happen_ to normal people.’

Rowan’s eyes were such thin slits he didn’t believe there was any way she could still see her nails. ‘I am quite sure your mother would only be annoyed she hadn’t thought of doing it herself.’

Jesper pressed his eyes shut, a breath escaping through his teeth. ‘You _know_ I’m sorry for what my family did to you, Rowan.’

She didn’t look at him. ‘Thank you for the lift home, Jesper. Drive safe, now, I’d hate to have a headache for the rest of the day.’

‘I’m not done, Rowan.’

She threw her hands in the air. ‘For god’s sake! Why not! How long have we been in this fight for now?’

He shrugged. ‘Five years, maybe.’ There was no maybe about it; he could’ve pinpointed the start of their fight to within an hour.

‘And we’ve been over the same things over and over and _over_ again, Jes! Aren’t you sick of saying the same shit? You _know_ I’m sorry, you _know_ I didn’t want it to happen like it did, you _know_ I’ve tried to make things right, so why are you still here? Just fuck off home, this is so stupid!’

Jesper set his lips in a flat line. ‘I have a _right_ to be angry at you, Rowan!’

‘I’m _sorry_ I ruined your date!’ she snarled back at him. ‘What else do you want me to say?’

Thousands of things flashed through his mind, option after option after choice. ‘You ruined my shirt,’ he said eventually.

She growled. ‘You have a _million_ fucking identical shirts!’

‘That’s besides the point! If you have so much money now, you can afford to replace it!’

‘For fuck’s _sake_ , Jesper! Is that all you care about?’ She vaulted over the back of the sofa and rooted through the pockets of the jacket she’d left in a heap on the floor, pulling out her wallet and then tossing a handful of notes at him.

They exploded apart on impact and fluttered to the ground, one of his hands half-heartedly grabbing for them.

‘Why were you sleeping in a car?’ he asked as the last few landed on his feet.

Rowan’s shoulders slumped. ‘Just go, will you? This is pointless.’

‘ _Rowan_! Tell me why.’

‘Like you care?’

‘You have security here, you have plenty of cash on you to get a hotel room, why would you _ever_ be sleeping in a car?’

She glowered at him. ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but I got shot yesterday and then I only managed to get a couple _very uncomfortable_ hours sleep in a car before a maniac woke me up, I’m tired and sore and I want to go to bed, not be having this conversation.’

‘Tough.’

She rolled her eyes and carried on towards the bedroom. ‘Bye, Jes.’

‘I’m serious, Ro, you need to tell me right now.’

‘ _Why_?’

Jesper cocked his head to one side. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

‘I’m not _afraid_.’

‘You’re happy for me to go then? Leave you here on your own?’

Rowan paused beneath the arch and squeezed her eyes closed in a wince. ‘If you … if you _really_ want to stay, I still keep the blankets in the cupboard by the bathroom.’

‘And why should I stay if you’re so clearly fine?’

Her head hung. ‘ _Please_ ,’ she tried, a sheepish note to her voice, ‘I’ll make you breakfast … for dinner.’

‘… I’ll see you when you wake up.’

 

The smell of cinnamon and the sizzle of frying woke him up several hours later. He only had to crack his eyes open to see Rowan across the way from him in the kitchen, standing on tip toes to peer into a saucepan full of boiling, spitting oil.

‘Churros, really? You’re so predictable, Ro.’

‘Are you complaining?’ she asked without turning to look at him.

‘You _know_ they’re my favourite.’

‘Well then.’ She fished some perfectly browned, mini pastries out of the pan, rolled them in cinnamon and sugar, and then laid them out on a plate that she carried over to the sofa, along with a pot of chocolate spread. Settling beside him on the arm of the sofa, she offered him the plate. ‘They’re hot,’ she warned him as he burnt his fingers.

He shot her a look, blowing on them gently.

‘I think the words you’re looking for are _thank you, Rowan_ ,’ she offered, carefully biting into her own, steam blowing out past her teeth like a dragon.

‘Thank you, Rowan, for making me my favourite food. How long’s it been since you last made these?’

She shrugged. ‘I make them all the time.’

He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘By _yourself_?’

‘You don’t know that I’m by myself,’ she countered.

He supposed he didn’t.

They ate the rest of plate in silence, Rowan staring at her own fingers as they, undoubtedly, throbbed in time to Jesper’s own.

‘What time is it?’ he asked eventually, as he was licking the last of the sugar from under his nails.

Rowan glanced over her shoulder, squinting at the clock on the wall. ‘Late.’

‘Hm, well, I’d better go. Thank you again for … breakfast.’

She turned back to look at him. ‘Did you have plans for today?’

He shook his head. ‘Only sleeping off a hangover I never got.’

Rowan sighed. ‘We really are getting old.’

He huffed a surprised laugh. ‘It doesn’t seem _that_ long since we could get away without them. You remember that time you drank that _whole_ bottle of Dad’s cognac? I thought you were going to _die_ , but you were pretty much fine after. At least, after you’d thrown up for three hours straight.’

She was staring at him. ‘I don’t think it was a whole bottle,’ she said eventually.

‘No, well, maybe not. Possibly even you couldn’t survive that.’

There was a tiny smile curling the edges of her lips. ‘Are you calling me a rat?’

‘A cockroach, maybe.’

They’d made their way over to the door; Rowan touched it, her fingers seeming uncertain before finally pulling it open. ‘Drive safe, Jes. It was … good to see you again.’

Jesper paused, looking at her. He fiddled with the cuffs on his shirt and then cleared his throat, dropping his gaze. ‘Try not to get shot again, Rowan.’

He didn’t miss the soft sound of her sigh as she gently pushed the door shut behind him.

 

The drive back up the winding road to the security booth felt quicker than before, his distracted mind jumping around in an agitated frenzy much worse than it had been the night before.

He slowed to a stop at the barrier and waited. And waited. Finally, he honked his horn, impatient to be home and as far from this lane of memories as he could get.

Still the security guard didn’t raise the barrier.

Jesper let his window down and leaned out a little way, still blaring his horn. ‘Hey! Hey, security guy! Are you asleep? You already cleared my car, just let me _out_ , for god’s sake!’

Nothing.

With a snarl, Jesper climbed out of his car, slamming the door behind him loudly and stomping over to the booth.

‘Hey! I’m talking to you! Security guy! Hey! Are you— Oh my _god_.’

The mess that had been left in the security booth no longer looked like a person.

Jesper backpedalled quickly, tumbling back behind the wheel of his Lamborghini and throwing it into reverse as soon as his scrambling mind and uncoordinated limbs could get the car to cooperate. He squealed all the way back down the twisting lane and swerved to a stop in the garage, narrowly missing Rowan’s Subaru. He got back out so quickly he hadn’t even turned the engine off and the car bleeped at him angrily as he dove past the cars and towards the intercom.

 

Rowan was debating whether to wash her wrecked t-shirt or just throw it out when her vision went black.

She came to again knelt on the floor, her ears singing and a splitting pain in the back of her head so sharp she couldn’t see straight. She crawled over to the door and pressed her ear to it, desperately fighting her muddled mind to focus enough to listen for any sounds on the other side of the reinforced wood. Slowly, she stood up, swaying on her feet, and took a lancing device out of the pocket of her pyjama shorts – the sort diabetics used to test their blood sugar levels. It only took a moment to prick her finger deeply enough for a bead of dark red blood to well up on the tip of it and she hastily scrawled some symbols down the side of the door jamb before pulling the door open and creeping through it.

She circled around to the other side of the building and carefully made her way down a fire route, doing her best to not make a sound as she stepped into the garage and pressed herself against a concrete pillar. It was hard going to make sure the route was clear when her vision was still spotting and wavering and pain screamed inside her skull, so in the end she dropped into a crouch and slowly worked her way between parked cars until she reached the other side, where the intercom was.

Underneath it, Jesper was slumped, his eyes closed and almost-black blood from the back of his head smeared down the concrete wall.

Rowan glanced around the space again, her breaths coming fast and her eyes struggling to stay open. Her finger had stopped bleeding again and Jesper’s blood was too thick to use so she speared the next finger along and squatted behind him, locking their fingers together while she scrawled a line of bloody shapes up his arm, shifting as she finished the last one to clap her hand over his mouth and muffle the gasp he gave as his eyes flew open. She didn’t let go until his breathing had steadied and she was able to see and hear clearly again, the ringing in her ears leaving a small echo even after it had completely stopped.

The garage still seemed quiet and still, but Rowan gestured to Jesper before she finally released him and led him in a scuttling crawl across the floor and back up the fire escape. As soon as they were back inside the loft, Rowan’s finger marked a downward flick through the symbols already beside the door, finishing the set, and she collapsed backwards, letting a breath of air hiss through her teeth.

Jesper was pacing, the tips of his own fingers worrying at the blood still caked to the back of his head. ‘Your security guard is _dead_ , Rowan! Someone killed him.  _Murdered_ him!’

‘Probably the same guy who knocked you out,’ Rowan murmured, watching him wearily, although he didn’t miss the sharp pang in her chest at that news.

He spun on her. ‘You think! What have you _done_ , Rowan, that’s getting people killed? Who’s out there? They could get in here any minute! What are you going to _do_?’

‘He’s not getting in.’ Rowan tapped her fingernails against the line of bloody symbols.

Jesper’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the mess she’d made of the door jamb. ‘Are you _serious_? Is that your answer to everything?’ he hissed incredulously.

‘If it ain’t broke,’ she said quietly.

‘How _dare_ you! How can you say that after _everything_ —’

‘You’d be feeling a _lot_ worse right now if I hadn’t,’ she countered crossly.

‘And that’s supposed to make it okay, is it?’

She shrugged. ‘I can knock you out again, if you’d rather.’

‘A man is _dead_ , Rowan, don’t you dare make light of this!’

‘You don’t have to remind _me_ ,’ she snapped, but her voice cracked, giving her away.

‘What have you _done_?’

With a roll of her eyes and a flick of her head, she shot him a look. ‘What do you think?’

‘Who is he?’

Rowan twisted her lips as she glanced at the coffee table and the very glittery necklace that was still lying on the floor beside it. ‘The gentleman with the black Maserati,’ she mumbled.

Jesper’s breath left him in a rush as he stared at her. ‘How does he know where you live? How did your security guy know him? What’s going _on_ , Rowan?’

She scratched the back of her head and squeezed her eyes shut, looking almost sheepish for about a half second. ‘I’ve brought him here a couple of times. I … needed to get a good look inside his apartment so we’ve been dating for the last few months.’

Closing his own eyes as his shoulders slumped, Jesper turned his face away from her. ‘For goodness _sake_. He’s the one that shot you?’

Rowan’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. ‘He caught me in the basement. There was some fucked up stuff down there. I guess he didn’t want me to see it until it was my turn. Then he chased me back upstairs and shot me as I was climbing out of a window onto the street.’

‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’

‘You asked,’ she snapped.

‘You’ve _always_ got yourself into trouble like this. I’m done with it, Rowan. I’m not bailing you out any more. This is _ridiculous_.’

‘Oh _please_ , when’s the last time you bailed me out?’

‘You know when.’ He looked at her until she dropped her gaze. ‘I had to pay an _awful_ lot to get you off after you torched everything in my parents’ garage, Rowan. And it cost me even more keeping them from coming after you.’

She kept her eyes averted and fixed on the floor beside his feet. ‘I was well within my rights to do that. And I never asked you to bail me out.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I know.’

Rowan ground her jaw for a few moments and Jesper crossed the floor to the sofa, collapsing into it and pressing his fingers into his eyes.

‘What a _mess_ ,’ he groaned.

‘Speaking of messes …’ Rowan sighed loudly and reached her arms up high above her head in a long stretch that finished in a groan. The day before she’d been able to smell the blood that still crusted her skin from where there’d been a cavernous wound in her chest, but now she couldn’t detect a trace of it, which probably meant there was far worse filth covering it up. ‘I,’ she said decisively, ‘am going to take a long, _long_ hot bath.’

Raising his eyebrows, Jesper flicked a look at her over the back of the sofa. ‘At a time like this?’

She shrugged. ‘None of us is going anywhere anytime soon, might as well kill the time.’

Jesper’s mouth worked as he tried to express the _inappropriateness_ of a hot bath while a murderer stalked about on the other side of the door. ‘That doesn’t sound very good for the environment,’ he chastised, eventually.

She rolled her eyes. ‘And since when did people with enough money to buy entire new worlds care about this one?’

‘I’ll have you know all of my businesses are working towards cutting their emissions, carbon footprints and ecological impact.’

‘And here I thought those businesses weren’t anything to do with you,’ she shot.

He narrowed his eyes at her viciously, warning her not to say any more.

‘It’s just, _I_ thought someone _else_ got those businesses in the will,’ she tried again.

‘Rowan, don’t pretend you have any clue what the innermost workings of multimillion-dollar, international businesses look like.’

Rowan didn’t need to pretend – she’d cut her teeth stealing from the various Tait businesses because she’d known them so well; Mr Tait had spent a lot of time showing her off inside those needlessly flashy buildings, introducing her to executives and board members and shareholders. There were a lot of people who worked in those buildings, some harder than others, all generating money for Mr Tait, who did not work in those buildings. Each posed photo of Rowan, her hand clasped by those eternally-suited people, had taken three mugshots with fake names to cleanse from her electronic footprint.

‘I’ll make a businesswoman of her yet, just you wait,’ Mr Tait had told these people, smiling broadly, but his words had only ever been meant as captions under those photos, nothing more.

‘Don’t pretend you have any say in their running, then.’ She shut the bathroom door and flicked the lock around with a satisfying click.

The loft had a very good bathroom, high ceilings and white walls, lit plenty well by skylights and with bright green plants trailing all the way down to the slate-grey floor. The bathtub in the centre of the room looked a lot like a sculpture from an art exhibit, but it was far more inviting when it was almost overflowing with gorgeously warm water and frothy bubbles.

Jesper rolled his neck experimentally and then climbed off the sofa and made his way to the bathroom door. He slid one of his numerous limitless credit cards from the neat slip in his pocket and used its edge to twist the lock back around so he could open the door. ‘Your bathroom isn’t very secure,’ he said as he stepped inside.

Rowan’s eyes were closed as she rested her head on the edge of the tub. ‘Most people don’t try to break into it.’

‘You probably shouldn’t have taught me to pick locks, then, should you?’

‘Probably not,’ she mused. ‘But I actually liked you then and didn’t mind if you broke into my bathroom.’

A sharp stab of pain replaced one of the beats of his heart and then echoed off all the hollow chambers of his chest. He snuck a glance her way, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

Her eyes met his. They were narrowed, calculating. She’d noticed.

‘I just want to use the toilet, Rowan. I should be able to do that without a fight.’

‘We don’t _have_ to fight, Jes.’

‘Yes, yes, I know, I’ve heard your brilliant plan about me leaving you here. Not sounding quite so brilliant now, is it?’

‘ _No_ , I mean we could actually stop fighting. Talk about things for a change. Work all this out.’

‘All this? You mean the way you betrayed me?’

She shut her mouth and it formed the shape of a sullen pout. ‘I’ve apologised I don’t know how many times,’ she said. ‘And it was _hardly_ a betrayal; you’re being dramatic.’

‘Dramatic? _Dramatic_? That was my _father_ , Rowan, and he died before I had a chance to say goodbye because people like _you_ –  _you_ who I actually thought I could trust – lied to my face repeatedly about whether or not he was sick.’

Rowan screwed her eyes shut. ‘Will you just— Can we just _not_ , Jesper? Can I have five fucking minutes to have a bath without you screaming at me?’

‘You think I _want_ to be stuck in here with you? What are you going to do to fix this? I want to go, I want to be as fucking far away as I can get, how are you going to sort this out? Huh?’

She let her head flop back against the edge of the bath. ‘I … I have a plan. It’s just … going to take some time to figure out. Okay? I’m working on it.’

‘It better be quicker than that,’ he hissed, using the toilet and then stalking back out of the room and leaving her to her bath in peace that didn’t taste as sweet as it should’ve.

Rowan sighed and slid down until the water totally covered her head.

 

‘Your life is a mess, Rowan,’ Jesper announced as she emerged from the bathroom in a fluffy towel and a cloud of steam. ‘You know how I can tell?’

‘Because I got us both almost killed inside two days?’ she deadpanned.

Jesper’s mouth opened and then closed again, his lips pressed into a thin line. ‘Well … yes. But also from the state of your kitchen. You can tell a lot about the state of a person’s life from the state of their kitchen and yours is _not good_.’

Rowan’s eyes flicked over to the clear countertops and back again. ‘It looks fine to me.’

‘Maybe on the _surface_ ,’ Jesper was getting in to his performance, throwing his arms towards the counters with a slightly over the top flourish, ‘but I opened the _cupboards_ , Rowan.’

‘Oh.’

‘I nearly lost a hand in there, Ro, I’m surprised you can still see the floor through the sheer amount of shit that fell out of this one. They were _never_ this bad when I lived here. You have got a _lot_ of issues to work through.’

‘ _You_ hired a cleaner to tidy up all of your messes for you when you lived here,’ she retorted. ‘Wait, hang on, there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, just give me a moment …’

Eyes narrowed, Jesper folded his arms. ‘Never mind _my_ problems, what are you doing to solve yours? When can I finally get out of here?’

‘Why do you want to leave so badly? Is being around me really _that_ terrible?’

He sucked in a sharp breath, silenced, and looked away.

Rowan shut her eyes. ‘What are you doing going through my cupboards?’ her voice was soft.

Jesper’s shoulders drooped with a sigh and he twisted back to looking at the mess he’d made of the kitchen floor, his thumb itching the side of his nose. ‘I was getting a bit hungry and I thought I’d make something for us, but you’ve not got much in.’

‘I’ve been away working a lot.’

‘ _Working_. Sure. If that’s what you want to call dating millionaires so you can steal from them.’

‘How is that _any_ different to what you do?’

Jesper’s mouth opened and then closed again. Finally, he gritted out, ‘Go on then, Rowan, I’m listening, what’s your genius plan?’

She inhaled deeply. ‘You’re not going to like it.’

He threw his eyes at the vaulted ceiling.

 

‘I can’t _believe_ all you have in is ice cream sandwiches,’ Jesper grumbled, tentatively biting off a corner.

Rowan rolled her eyes and carried on searching through the bookcase she was knelt in front of.

‘So … how does this work? Is there some ancient tome of black magic and forbidden blood rituals you work out of, or …?’

Lip curling at him, she pulled out a massive book covered in dust that she promptly blew off and into his face.

‘Hey, hey! Watch it!’ he cried, shielding his sandwich. ‘This might well be my last meal!’

‘You’re not going to _starve_ , Jes.’

‘Maybe not, but I might be _shot_.’

Shaking her head, Rowan opened the book. Inside, it wasn’t a book at all, but a hollowed-out box filled with odds and ends. There was a lump of raw crystal, a small vial of what looked like blood on the end of a necklace cord, a takeaway menu and a memory stick. She picked up the memory stick and moved back over to the sofa, connecting the little drive to her laptop.

As files started to open, Jesper crawled over and sat at her feet. ‘This seems distinctly un-magical,’ he said.

‘Shut up,’ Rowan told him.

‘What’s that?’ His finger hovered over an icon on the screen. ‘ _JRT_?’

She pressed her lips together. ‘Nothing.’

‘Let me see.’ He batted her hand out of the way gently and clicked. The folder was full of a hodgepodge of different file types, photos and songs and a couple of documents. He selected an image and an old photo of the two of them enlarged across the screen. In it, they were little more than children, posing in front of one of his father’s many restored vintage cars. ‘This is the day we met,’ he breathed.

Rowan snatched the laptop back and closed the whole folder. ‘The day your parents first told me they were going to adopt me, you mean.’

‘Rowan—’

‘I thought you wanted me to fix this so you could get as far away as you can?’

A terrible, old ache had opened up in her chest. It felt so suffocating to Jesper that he was surprised she was able to talk at all.

She opened a different file and the scan of an ancient-looking book appeared on the screen. ‘They’re all in here,’ she murmured. ‘I just have to find one that works.’

He stared at her until he realised how numb his ice cream sandwich was making his fingers. ‘I’ll … I’ll leave you to it, then.’

As though him shifting against the sofa hard startled her out of some reverie, she blinked quickly, looked up and then caught hold of his shoulder, stopping him from moving. ‘No, wait, what? You’re not gonna give me a hand?’

‘ _Is_ there anything I can do to help?’

Rowan ran her hand across the top of her head, scratching at her scalp as she pulled a face. ‘I mean … I need to figure out _what_ we want to do to him, you know? Otherwise we could look through this for days and not find what we need.’

Jesper pulled himself onto the sofa beside her, took another bite of his sandwich and then narrowed his eyes at her as he chewed thoughtfully. ‘I’m not helping you murder anyone.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘ _I_ don’t want to kill him, Jes.’

He cast her a sideways look, clearing his throat quietly. ‘Oh? You don’t? Wh— … uh, why not?’

Rowan flicked her eyes at him. ‘I’d much rather the police caught him.’

He couldn’t stop the little sigh of relief that slipped past his lips. ‘Hey, wow, what’s this? Who knew you actually had an appreciation of the justice system?’

‘I just mean I think he’d suffer much more in prison,’ she snapped, shooting him a look.

‘So … We’re not going to kill him, but we need him to get caught by the police … But if he gets arrested, he’s just going to throw you under the bus, isn’t he?’

Rowan tipped her head to one side and let her gaze slide up to the ceiling, thinking. ‘Yeah … I guess he— I think I’ve got an idea …’

She squinted slightly, leaning in closer to the laptop screen as she scanned the pages more closely and Jesper watched her. His mouth felt dry.

‘Why did you do it?’ he asked, voice quiet.

‘Hm?’

‘Why’d you keep that stuff about my dad from me?’

‘You know why.’ She didn’t look up from the screen.

‘ _You’re_ the one that wanted to talk about this stuff, Rowan, come on. Tell me why.’

She lifted a hand off the keyboard and threw it in the air. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you, Jes, for fuck sake, is that so hard to understand?’

‘Oh really? And how many times have you hurt me since?’

‘That’s different,’ she said, her teeth gritted. ‘I didn’t mean for it to be like this.’

‘What did you think was going to happen?’

‘I thought someone else would tell you! I thought … I don’t know, Jes, fuck! I thought your mum would talk to you, your dad, _someone_ . I just … _I_ didn’t want to be the one who said the words, who broke your heart like that.’

‘You must’ve realised … You must’ve _known_ that no one had said anything to me.’

Her hands pushed her hair back off her forehead sharply. ‘I mean … I mean, _yeah_ , but by then it had been _years_ since I’d had anything to do with your family, he could’ve been better for all I knew.’

‘And you never thought maybe I _deserved_ to know the truth? To be able to make my own mind up about what I wanted to do with it? You just assumed I’d take it badly and decided I was better off not knowing without even giving me a chance? Is that how little you think of me? That you couldn’t even give me that much credit?’

‘Jesper, _come on_ , will you be reasonable? It wasn’t my place. I wasn’t part of your family. It was _nothing_ to do with me.’

‘But you still knew. _You_ still knew. And I didn’t. Who even told you? How did you find out?’

‘No one _told me_ . I was … I _happened_ to overhear the housekeeper and the cook talking about it one day. That’s all.’

‘You just _happened_ … Oh for god’s sake, Rowan, were you stealing from us? When was this?’

She pressed her lips together. ‘Does it _matter_?’

‘Whether or not you stole from my family? I should think so! _When_?’

‘I was just getting what was rightfully mine after your parents _dropped_ me like I was last year’s Chanel!’

Jesper’s gaze slid into his lap.

‘It was just money, okay? I didn’t take anything …’ She waved a hand vaguely in the air, her face like thunder. ‘Nothing _important_ , okay? Not your mother’s jewels or anything like that. Just some cash I’d had stashed in my old room. That’s all.’

‘Was it … Do you think it was related? That he found out he was unwell and then …?’

‘ _Don’t_ make excuses for them.’

‘No, I’m not, I just mean—’

‘It wasn’t, anyway. I’ve seen the paperwork. The … plans. It was always going to be like that. It was always meant to be temporary. Just a … Just something to make them look good. Publicity for their newest ventures. Whatever. I was always just a random foster care kid, I never _meant_ anything to them.’

He swallowed, his breathing suddenly shallower. There was a tight, knotted ache in his stomach and he couldn’t tell if it was hers or his own. His sleeve was still slightly rolled up, the bloody symbols Rowan had drawn on him earlier still visible below it. He ran his thumb down over them, pulling the skin taut and stretching the marks. ‘And why … What made you do this? If you didn’t want to hurt me, why would you do _this_?’ he asked, his voice a hoarse, hushed croak.

Without warning, her eyes misted, tears welling up rapidly like they’d been waiting all this time. ‘You were going to die! What was I supposed to do? You were _everything_ , you were the only family I’d ever had!’

Jesper stared at her. ‘Rowan, I—’

She wiped at her eyes furiously. ‘It doesn’t matter, now, does it? The whys. It’s done and you’re not going to forgive me. I get it. Maybe while we’re here I should look for a way to undo it all, huh?’

He swallowed, licking at his lips and not meeting her eyes.

‘Well? That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘I … I don’t … Do you really think you could do that?’

Her eyes slipped away from him and back onto the computer screen, her shoulders drooping. ‘I’d have to … I don’t know. It would take some finding, probably.’

There was a pain in Jesper’s chest that was even sharper than when Rowan had been shot.

 

Many hours later, Jesper looked up from where he’d been worrying his thumbnail, deep in thought, to find that Rowan had fallen asleep, slumped against the arm of the sofa, the laptop almost falling on the floor, her breaths soft and regular, puffing a strand of hair that was resting on her cheek.

Soundlessly, he stood up and gently took the computer off her before covering her with the blanket he’d slept under the day before, tucking it around her as she shifted in her sleep, curling up tighter. Without thinking, he smoothed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and then caught himself.

He sat back down with the laptop and tapped his fingers against the keyboard, turning things over in his mind again and again until, with an urgency that surprised even himself, he opened up the file on the memory stick Rowan had closed before and started looking through it. There were more photos than he’d realised – some were screenshots from news sites showing Rowan at different stages of her life, always beside his mother, his father, or both, always dressed to the nines, primped and polished, like an expensive show pony or a trophy, some were posed family photos taken for events and holidays and some were lower quality pictures, which looked like they’d been taken on a phone, showing the two of them, young and brimming with mischief, scuffs on Jesper’s expensive school uniform and tears in Rowan’s hand-me-down jeans.

There was a lump in his throat making it hard to swallow, to breathe.

He moved on to some of the other files, skimming over legal documents and a copy of Rowan’s first arrest warrant, the bail information finished with his own signature, and finally stopping at a small selection of mp3s. Jesper checked the volume on the laptop was down low, selected the first and clicked play. A track started up, fast and vulgar, rap or trap or a cantrip, and he was immediately transported to another time, another place. He could see, clear as day, the coastal road leading to his family’s beachfront property, feel the wind tearing at his hair, the warmth of Rowan beside him, behind the wheel, throwing them around a corner and then letting go completely, hear their gleeful screams lost in the blaring music and the rush of air that passed between their fingers.

He remembered the solid, unbearable heat and how sexy Rowan had looked as she rendered every car in his father’s fleet immobile, as flames poured from the garage behind her and tyres exploded and billowing, hot smoke stung his face and eyes. He remembered black scorch marks on her hands and dried tear tracks on her cheeks and that dead, hollow look in her eyes that had made his chest hurt.

As always, memories of the sickening crunch of crumpling metal weren’t far behind, of pain and blind panic when he’d realised he was trapped, when he heard the fast drip of leaking fuel and remembered how quickly his father’s cars had gone up in Rowan’s flames, how little effort it had taken for them to succumb and catch light. He’d been so alone, so far from anyone else and with no hope of being saved.

He never forgot the feeling of utter desperation that had engulfed him when he’d known he was going to die there, alone.

And then he’d woken up with a gasp and a rush of love, his hand clasped in hers, bloody symbols marking the inside of his arm. He remembered the sensation being as physical and strong as the bruising wrench of the seatbelt against his body as it held him still when his car flipped over, of his ribs snapping as the whole thing hit the ground again, of bent metal tightening around him and piercing his skin. That feeling of love had hit him as hard as his car had hit the post that stopped it tumbling further down the gorge.

He sniffed and swiped at his cheeks and then reached out to shake her arm.

‘Rowan. Rowan! I don’t want you to take it back. Rowan, wake up.’

She shifted and scrunched up under his touch with a groan, then blinked blearily, trying to look around. ‘What? What time is it?’

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to take it back.’

Sitting up, nearly losing the blanket in the process, Rowan rubbed at her eyes, her nose creasing. ‘What? Why do you always do this when I’ve just woken up?’

‘I was upset, Ro, you’ve got to understand that. I was so … so _angry_ and it was … I don’t know. It wasn’t _easier_ to take it out on you, I don’t mean that, but it hurt more coming from you, you know? And I was so angry because … I was angry at him, Ro, because of you, and I think … I think really, if I’m being honest, even if I’d _known_ he was dying, I still wouldn’t’ve spoken to him again, I still wouldn’t’ve said goodbye. Because of you. Or, because of how I felt about what he did to you. How much he hurt you. But you took the choice away from me. Not just you, sure, but I _felt_ it more from you. I trusted you. I trusted you above everyone else in my life. And you made it so I couldn’t even choose to show him, to purposefully, _actively_ make that choice to spurn him and not say goodbye … But also I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my dad, and that really hurts, you know?’

She blinked at him slowly. ‘I … I know. I know that, Jes, and I’m sorry. I—’

‘No, I know you’re sorry. That’s not really the point, though, it’s like …’

Rowan cocked her head one way, looking at him. ‘I understand how you feel,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘How about that? I understand that you feel all that and I think it sounds confusing and messy and hard and I’m sorry you had to go through it, that you had to feel all that. But it wasn’t my responsibility to tell you about your dad, Jes. I shouldn’t even have known. It would _never_ have been me telling you that.’

He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his lap. ‘I know that. I do know that.’

‘I am really sorry though. And I should’ve …’ She frowned and pushed her hair back from her face with a slight grimace. ‘I should’ve thought more about the consequences of … of doing that ritual. I should’ve thought more about whether you’d even want me to. I just … I was scared. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. And I just … I couldn’t picture any future without you in it somewhere. I don’t mean … It was just like there was no other option. There was nothing else if you didn’t live. But I should’ve thought about it harder and I’m really sorry.’

Jesper shrugged gently. ‘I think you did the right thing.’

‘I … What?’

‘You saved my life, Rowan. I can’t really be mad at you for that, can I?’ He looked at her. ‘What did it feel like for you? When you did it? When it worked?’

She stared back, a small line forming between her eyes. ‘It was … I don’t know. It felt good, I guess, I could _feel_ when it had worked.’

‘That’s it? Why did you start wearing a wedding ring after that, then?’

He watched her face colour and flush. ‘I … I didn’t—’

‘Come on, Ro, we’re doing a really good job of being honest with each other here, don’t ruin it.’

She closed her eyes and dropped her head. ‘It felt like … It’s just that when I did it, it felt like something _more_ , something deeper. Like a … a connection. A bond.’

‘Like being in love. Getting married.’

She met his eyes. ‘Yeah. Exactly.’

They held each other’s gaze, both on the verge of speaking but never actually saying anything.

Rowan broke first, glancing away for a moment and then back again.

‘I love this song,’ she said quietly.

‘So do I,’ he said and then reached out, taking her hand, locking their fingers together. ‘It felt the same for me – when you did the ritual. I don’t want you to take it back, Ro. I want to … I don’t want to be angry anymore, pretending you don’t exist, that I don’t care. It’s stupid. I feel stupid.’

‘You’re not stu—’

‘We’re _both_ stupid.’

‘… That’s fair.’

‘So did you do it? Did you find out how we’re going to take down our murderer so we can get on with the rest of our lives?’

She waved a hand, gesturing for the laptop, and then took it off him, flicking back to the book she’d been studying before she fell asleep. ‘I think so. It might work, anyway. Have a look at this, what do you think?’ She spun the computer in her lap, tilting it towards him so he could see what was on the screen better and drumming her fingers against a passage of text, eyebrow raised and lips curling in a smirk.

 

The garage was just as quiet as it had been the day before when Jesper crept into it, but the dark, bloody mark against one of the pillars and the memory of a splitting headache made him far more cautious than he’d been the last time he was there.

He made his way over to his Lamborghini, still parked at an odd angle with the door flung wide and the keys in the ignition, checked over both shoulders and sunk into the driver’s seat. He tried to start it and was met by a flat, dead clicking.

‘Come on, come _on_ ,’ he pleaded, turning the key again and getting nothing. He gave up and smacked his hands against the steering wheel before sliding out and anxiously checking all around him as he started to edge his way out of the garage and towards the driveway.

He moved slowly, glancing over his shoulder every few steps, but he still didn’t see the body hurtling towards him until they collided.

The man was strong and wrestled Jesper to the ground with an ease that shocked him and sent his mind reeling straight back to thoughts of hopelessness and the end.

Hands circled his throat and tightened, squeezing the life out of him.

His eyes bugged and his own hands clawed at the ones holding him down, scraping his head against the rough tarmac.

Without any warning, there was a loud crack and the man slumped to the side, losing his grip on Jesper’s neck, but not quite his consciousness.

‘Hold him!’ Rowan shrieked, lining up another hard hit with the golf club they’d found in a cupboard.

Jesper grabbed hold of the man and frantically struggled with him, desperately trying to hold his arms still.

Rowan hit him again, so hard he could almost hear his father’s voice. ‘Don’t just hit the ball, Rowan, hit _through_ it.’

As soon as the man went limp, Jesper tightened his grip on him and Rowan pricked her finger, wrenching his head back by his hair as she scrawled a set of symbols across his forehead.

Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer.

‘Come on, please work,’ Rowan murmured, her eyes squeezed closed.

There was a beat of total silence and total stillness, and then the man moved, throwing Rowan off him as he got to his feet. Her fingers slid and clawed across his head as she fell, smudging the carefully formed symbols so they resembled nothing more than bloody fingerprints.

She hit the ground hard, on all fours, grit grazing the heels of her palms and working its way under her skin.

‘What the fuck!’ the man spat as he loomed above them, rocking slightly on his feet, unsteady. ‘What the fuck!’

The wail of the sirens drew closer until the man threw a hand up to shield his eyes from the flashing lights and two police cars swerved to a halt in front of them, throwing dirt and grit over Rowan and Jesper where they were still huddled on the ground.

As armed police officers threw themselves out of the cars and started shouting orders, Rowan crawled over to Jesper, clutching at his shirt and pulling his head into her lap as she flung her arms around his neck.

‘Jes! Are you okay? Are you okay?’ she cried.

‘Did it work?’ he murmured.

‘I think so!’ she whispered back.

‘Get on your knees!’ the police officers screamed. ‘Hands on your head!’

Frowning with deep confusion, the man lowered himself onto the ground and the officers lunged at him, wrenching his hands behind his back.

‘What’s going on!’ he yelled.

‘Is this yours?’ one of the officers asked, pointing at the golf club still lying on the tarmac.

‘I … I hit him! Oh my god, I thought he was going to kill Jesper! I hit him!’ Rowan wailed.

Jesper sat up and banded his arms around her, shielding her face. ‘He’s a lunatic! He killed our security guard!’

‘All right, okay you two, you’re safe now, we have the situation contained.’

‘What the fuck is happening!’ the man cried. ‘Where am I? Who are you people?’

Rowan lifted her head and snuck a meaningful look at Jesper.

 

‘Oh, honestly, Jesper, couldn’t you have tidied yourself up a bit before you came?’ his mother clucked, scratching at an imagined speck of dirt by his lips with her thumbnail.

Pulling a face, Jesper wrenched himself out of his mother’s clutches. ‘Mother, please, stop fussing. I showered barely half an hour ago.’

She reached out for him again and he dodged.

‘I ran into Rowan last month, Mother.’

Her painted lips thinned until they were nothing but a fine, red line cutting through her face. ‘You weren’t missing anything valuable afterwards, were you? That criminal really is so distasteful. I hope none of my friends think she has anything to do with our family.’

‘Well, actually, Mother, Rowan and I are planning on getting married in a few weeks. It won’t be anything big, we’ll just be signing the paperwork and making things official, but it would be nice if you’d be there. It won’t be the end of the world if you decide not to come, though.’

Her eyes widened, mouth falling wordlessly open, and Rowan stepped up neatly and took his arm with the one that wasn’t cradling the enormous bouquet they’d picked out.

She glanced at Jesper briefly and when he replied with a small smile, they moved off together, picking their way over the damp path between the neatly manicured plots of graves until they reached the one that bore Jesper’s father’s name, his mother watching their progress slack-jawed.

 _Genius businessman, loving husband, doting father and passionate philanthropist_ , his gravestone read. _Matthew Tait will be missed by everyone whose lives were touched by the kindness of his spirit._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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